An Ascertainment of Reality
by theonlychantay
Summary: A tortured Harry Potter is transported to Middle Earth after destroying Voldemort. While there, he will attract the attention of the Fellowship, Sauron, the Black Riders, and the Elves. How will Harry react to being dragged into another war? Elfling!Harry


WARNING: Death and emotional torture.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything.

* * *

Harry was once again thrown into the cell he began to call his sanctuary for it was the only place that he was relieved from his pain. _They had been too close that time… too close… _Harry had been fluctuated between the refuge of his cell, to the hands of the bellicose Death Eaters everyday. Each time they came, they would in some new horrific way, torture him. He knew what they were trying to do, they were trying to break him. _Too close today… too close. _

When he was first captured and held in what he assumed to be Voldemort's base, Harry was hostile and violent. After a few days of the pain and torment he was put through, those emotions quickly slipped to feeling violated and resentful; few days later, devastated and embarrassed; humiliated. Today, many weeks later than when he first arrived … _too close, much too close. _He felt as if he was near breaking point. He was scared of what he had felt in today's session: inferior, worthless, overwhelmed and frightened. Yes, he was close, close to breaking point.

* * *

In another part of the Dark Lord's base, Voldemort himself was musing over the boy named Harry Potter. He knew the boy was close to breaking. Emotions could give one complete control over another's entire life. That is why the Dark Lord rid himself of such a weaknesses as simple as human emotions. But that didn't mean that he used those who _did _feel emotions against the feeler. Yes, he would break the boy, soon.

* * *

"Harry Potter"

Harry woke to the sound of a his name accompanied by the loud clang of the opening of his cell's iron bars. He tried sitting up and his broken ribs and slashes on his back from his last session screamed in protest. Harry was confused, this was not the normal time that the Death Eaters came. If his honed senses from the war were correct, it couldn't have been more than three hours since his torturers threw him in here. _No, not now. Too close… too soon… _

Harry looked up at the person who spoke his name and strained his eyes in the dark to see the man's face. He felt his stomach flip over and fill with dread as he saw who stood above him. _Voldemort…_ This was the first time he had seen him since he had arrived here.

"How are you, Harry?"

Harry did not respond and his heart was racing. After a long pause, Voldemort sighed, "I feel as if we have gotten off on the wrong foot, Harry. How would you like to have a cup of tea with me?"

Harry was perplexed and dismayed, he was about to question if he were dreaming or not but then it came to him. _He is trying to confuse me, he is going to try and break me once and for all. And I'm going to fight like hell against him no matter what he does._

Harry again remained silent.

"Actually you don't really have a choice. Just like your entire life Harry. You have never really had a choice or an opportunity to have a preference, now haven't you? Your whole life was planned out by everyone except yourself, wasn't it? You didn't choose to be in this war, you didn't plan on rebounding my killing curse, did you? You didn't choose to live with those dreadful relatives of yours, did you? No, you didn't. Do you know why? It is because you are inadequate and inferior to those who know how to get you to do anything. Like a dog. Dumbledore has been manipulating you your whole life, Harry." Voldemort shook his head and tsked slightly. "And to think that you actually believed anyone cared about you… they don't, Harry. In fact, there _is _no Harry. Only the Boy Who Lived, that's the only thing they care about; is your assumed _great _power over me. But you have none. And look! Look Harry! It's been weeks and no one has even _tried _to rescue you. No one would risk coming here for you, Harry. And now you are going to come have tea with me and you don't have a choice, just like your whole life."

Voldemort spoke with a slow uncaring voice that infiltrated every crevice of Harry's mind. _No, no, no, this is what he wants, don't let his words get to you… _But they already had, and Harry couldn't help but wonder, _had no one really tried to help him? He was more than a pawn, wasn't he? He was more than just the Boy Who Lived, right?_

"Come, Harry. Let us go to my office where it is warm and we can speak to one another where we can actually see each other."

Harry again, trying to keep what ever part of his dignity intact, remained stubbornly silent.

Voldemort sighed again, "I _really _did not want to have to do this, Harry. And to think that you could have saved her life just by joining me for a little tea."

With a flick of his hand, Voldemort illuminated behind him, and to Harry's astonishment, revealed Hermione Granger, bound and gagged, eyes wide and frantic. Voldemort pushed her into his open cell and before Harry could overcome his shock, Voldemort, with his wand in hand, pointed it at Hermione and suddenly Harry was splattered with wet sticky blood. He looked just in time to see Hermione fall over dead, a gaping hole where her heart should have been.

"_NO! _No, no, no, no, no! Hermione please, no!" Harry screamed out, everything had happened so quickly. He rushed to Hermione's side, ignoring the protest of his broken bones, and the splitting open of his wounds. He cried out and screamed until his voice was hoarse. When he looked for Voldemort he saw that his cell was shut again and Voldemort was gone.

For the rest of the night Harry whispered to the body which he held close to his. "No, Hermione, please no. I'm so sorry… so sorry, this is all my fault."

* * *

Voldemort sat alone in his office, contemplating what had just happened. It had worked perfectly. His goal was to make Harry feel as confused and unstable as possible. The boy had been in a routine for weeks now, and Voldemort knew that if he broke that routine and confused him as much as possible, he would get results much faster. Make Potter believe that he was nothing, make him doubt everything he had ever been taught. Emotions are everything, and Voldemort almost had complete control of Harry. Yes, a few more days of this and Harry would be broken.

* * *

Harry woke from his daze when he heard the door of his cell squeak open. Harry had not slept a wink that whole night, just spent it in a stupor wondering when he'd wake up.

"Harry Potter."

The same voice from the day before. Voldemort.

"How are you, Harry?"

"You killed her." Harry, who was still holding the cold body in his arms, rasped out.

A low chuckle. "No, Harry. _You _did. Don't you realize that if you were not born, she would still be alive?"

Harry did not reply.

"_You _killed her, Harry. Tell me, Harry, are you weak?"

Silence.

"Because, Harry, weak wizards do not take responsibility for who they hurt, or acknowledge what they have done."

Voldemort paused a moment and then began again, "I am a very powerful wizard, Harry. I acknowledge all of the people I have killed, and I do not despair for it. That makes me strong. But you, you Harry, took this mudblood's life from her and then despair over it. That makes you at least two times weaker than I am not even taking into account our levels of physical, or mental powers, in which I am also superior to you. Don't you see Harry? You are so weak, why do you even try? All you do is hurt the people around you. Look at her Harry, you did that, you killed her."

"That's not true!" Harry cried out. "It was you, it was your spell that killed her."

"A very astute observation Harry. But the thing is, it _was _your fault. Think about it Harry. Use your brain. If you had never been born, or had never befriended her, I would have never known who Hermione Granger was. And I would have never noticed her, she would have been just another mudblood. But because of you, I _did _know who she was and that was why she was chosen to be brought here. In addition, she could have lived if you had only agreed to drink tea with me. We three could have had a nice conversation and I might have liked having tea with you two so much that I could have decided to end the war right then and there. But no. And it was all your fault Harry. All. Your. Fault. She's dead. You're a _murderer._"

"Stop it! Stop! I'm not! I'm not!" Harry covered his ears with his hands and in the process, dropped Hermione's body which rolled off his lap and hit the cold ground with a thump. "No!" Harry was now racking with deep sobs. It was just too much. And he knew that Voldemort's words were true. It _was _his fault. He tried to grab up Hermione's body again but Voldemort's voice stopped him. "Do you actually think that she would want you, her murderer, to touch her body? What are you thinking, Harry? You are covered in her blood. She hates you for what you did."

_No, no, no, don't, stop it, stop it, stop it. _But he couldn't keep the voice out. Hermione hated him. _Hated him. I killed her… _

Once this thought came across Harry's mind, he became numb. Completely numb.

"You are nothing." Voldemort told Harry.

Harry looked up with tears streaming down his face, covered in his friend's blood, and whispered, "I know…"

"You are worthless."

Harry nodded in agreement. Numb to everything he was doing.

"That is your name. You are Worthless."

Harry just wept.

"What is your name?" The merciless voice came again.

"I am Worthless."

"Yes you are. How would you like to have some tea with me, Worthless?"

Harry, no, _Worthless, _his mind corrected, knew what happened the last time he refused and quickly nodded his head again.

"Tea. Yes. I would love to."

* * *

Voldemort had to hide the grin that was slipping onto his face while regarding the boy in front of him. He didn't believe that the boy was _completely _broken but knew he was close. They were both sitting in his office, Voldemort behind his desk and Harry sitting on the floor about three meters away, not touching the tea that had been placed on the ground for him there. Voldemort discreetly casted a silent charm on the boy's drink from behind his desk.

"Worthless," Voldemort called out to the boy, "Aren't you going to drink your tea?"

The Boy robotically reached for his cup but ripped his hand back when he found that the cup was unusually hot.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Voldemort asked, enjoying his new game. "Can you really not handle a little warm tea, Worthless? So weak…" Voldemort finished by taking a long sip of his own tea which was at a normal temperature.

The last bit Harry Potter that had not yet been broken, stubbornly picked up the cup, burning his hand in the process, "I'm not weak." But he said this in a frail voice that gave him away.

Just as he brought the cup to his mouth, Voldemort again covertly waved his wand again and the cup threw it's scalding contents onto Harry's face. The boy just sat there with his hand still raised to his mouth. A blank face as the tea burned his face and arms, the cup laid on the ground.

Voldemort tsked, "can't even handle a little tea… here, Worthless, I conjured some ice for your burns, just reach out for it."  
Voldemort was watching with glee as the boy looked at the conjured ice pack floating just above his head. As Harry went to grab it, it moved out of the way, again just barely out of reach. Harry reached again and again for the pack and before long was jumping all around for it.

* * *

Harry again jumped for the ice that would relieve his pain. He was now crying, _why wasn't anything EASY in his life?! _He was so distraught. All he wanted was the ice. Why can't just one thing be simple in his life? No. It couldn't. It never would be because of Voldemort… and his parents, and the Dursley's, and Dumbledore, and everyone in Hogwarts, and the whole Wizarding World! He hated them all. Sobs were now tearing through him and he was so frustrated.

As soon as he finally grabbed the ice, it slipped out of his hands and landed on his foot with a surprising force, cutting open his toes. Voldemort then conjured a salve for his bloodied toes, but when he tried to use it, it squirted in his eyes. _WHY COULDN'T HE EVER DO ANYTHING RIGHT? _Voldemort then told him that there was a bowl of water on his desk that he could wash out his eyes in. He tried to blindly find his way to Voldemort's desk but somehow tripped on something he couldn't remember being there and hit his head on the corner of the desk. He felt where he had hit his head and felt the sticky blood come away. Harry screamed, but not with anger or frustration. Just a very strong emotion he had never felt before. There he was, laying so vulnerably on the Dark Lord's floor; not only were his ribs still broken and his back still ripped up from the Death Eaters, but now his eyes were stinging, his face, neck and arms burning, his foot and head cut open, all caused by himself.

It was then that he realized what he felt. He felt… _worthless. _He _was _worthless. He was Worthless… _Worthless…_

* * *

Voldemort watched all of this with absolute delight. He enjoyed destroying this boy so much that it surprised himself. He was so close to breaking, he just needed to do one more thing to push him over the edge, and he knew just what it was.

* * *

Worthless, as the boy came to realize that that was his name, was absolutely disconnected from everything. He was a murderer, he was Worthless, he was nothing, he deserved to die.

"Worthless, what have you done to yourself?" He heard. Suddenly the stinging in his eyes was gone and he blink a few times, confused.

"I helped you Worthless, you are now in my debt."

Worthless only nodded at the statement.

"Which means I am your master."

Another nod.

"So come here. I will heal your wounds."

Worthless numbly made his way to Voldemort's desk now that he could see. When he stood before his master who was also standing. Voldemort pulled out his wand, but instead of healing the boy, he backhanded him across the face.

"You actually thought I would heal your wounds? You are _nothing _to me. Why would I ever heal your wounds?"

Worthless who had fallen to the ground began to sob again. "I'm sorry master, I'm so so sorry, please forgive me."

"No, I will not forgive you. And because of what you have done I am going to kill your friend Ronald Weasley."

* * *

It was easy for Voldemort to infiltrate Harry's mind, it was so damaged by now that the boy didn't even realize he had slipped in. The Dark Lord was not really going to kill the Weasley boy because the Weasley boy was not there. But Harry didn't know that, and Voldemort was going to break Harry's mind with that. Voldemort was especially adept at creating illusions. And the boy was so close to breaking.

* * *

Harry collapsed to his knees at the sight of his friend bound and gagged just like Hermione had been. Ron looked so frightened, shaking and sweating. Voldemort ripped away the gag from his mouth and Harry cried out in anger. Ron seemed to hear him, and before Harry open his mouth to talk to him, Ron glared at his with so much hatred that no words could leave Harry's mouth.

"You killed her you _son of a bitch!_"

Harry felt his very being twist up in absolute _agony._

"No Ron, it was… I just… _I am sorry! I"M SORRY! I'm sorry I can't DO __**ANYTHING **__RIGHT! I'm sorry I'm ALIVE! I just want to DIE!"_

Harry couldn't stand this level of pain. When the Death Eaters were slowly torturing him, that was nothing. The cruciatus curse; nothing. _This _was pain. His friend, his best friend. Harry couldn't handle it, he felt as though his head was about to explode.

Voldemort looked smugly down at the boy shriveling up before his eyes. Nothing had given his such satisfaction before in his entire life.

They Boy Who Lived was broken.

"Worthless, I am going to kill your friend and then I am going to kill you."

Harry thought that he was going to suddenly combust from everything that was happening all at once. It was too fast. He thought he heard Voldemort say something, but didn't understand. Then suddenly, the Dark Lord pointed his wand at Ron just as he had with Hermione and used the same curse. Once again, Harry was splattered with his best friend's blood.

He couldn't handle it.

Something was building inside of him.

He couldn't handle this.

It was like a wild beast was trying to claw it's way out of him.

Voldemort came closer and held his wand over him, mouthing a curse that would kill the boy.

Harry couldn't handle it anymore.

The wild inside him broke free.

He exploded.

**Okay people. Thanks for reading. I would really appreciate a review. **


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